Kiss me through the bars
by Eliza-Lou-Riley
Summary: After Delacroix is accused of Percy's rape, Paul puts his job on the line to prove the Cajun's innocence. But after the case goes to court, Paul discovers that the situation is not as straight forward as he anticipated. Contains slash.
1. Chapter 1

I should have known something was up that night on E block. It was too quiet, far too quiet. There was always some sort of noise – whether it was from Wild Bill's hollering or Brutal yelling at him to shut up. But there was an eerie silence that day and I didn't pay any attention to it, because I was grateful for some peace and quiet. In all my years working on the mile, the one thing I should have realised was that silence was a cause for concern.

'Boss?'

'What is it John?'

'Can you come here a moment?'

I needed an excuse to get away from filling out useless forms; I went over to Coffey's cell to see what he needed and found him sitting in a trance like state. He was hunched over, shoulders heaving, his breath coming out low and harsh so his overall demeanor resembled something of a giant bear. Usually I would have feared for a person's health if I saw them behaving in such an unusual fashion but with John Coffey you had to expect the unexpected.

'John?'

My voice seemed to snap him back to life. His head slowly, ever so slowly craned up to stare at me through his large dark eyes, which were slightly wet around the sides.

'What's up, big boy?'

It was as if he had forgotten why I was there but he seemed to remember after studying me carefully.

'I's need to get out Boss.'

'What do you mean, big boy?'

'I's need to get outta here. Will you let me out Boss?'

'Now John, you know I can't do that-'

'Please Boss. I just need to get out. I feel summin', Boss.'

This came out in a warning tone and I didn't like it. John was sensing something and I reacted to his emotions; I realised - by the time I had found the right key and opened the cell door - that my job was hanging on a thin wire. But I couldn't help it, something just wasn't right and if something didn't feel right to me I acted upon it. John reacted like a dog that was being released from a cage after several long, dragging months; he stared at the open door timidly, turned to have a final glance at his closed in surroundings and then carefully stepped out. I didn't want to cuff him but I had gone against enough regulations as it was. Besides, I still didn't fully trust John Coffey yet. For all I knew he could lock those heavy arms around my throat and snap me in half the minute I turned my back. But he didn't make any sort of movement or attempt to get away; he just stood there, his eyes limpid and confused as his hands were cuffed in front of him and I pulled on the chain.

'Where do you want to go then, big boy?'

His gaze fell to the floor, 'Can we go outside, Boss?'

'Well, I'm not sure about that…' but I was already weakening, falling under his enticing spell. He stared at me with patience but at the same time he was silently begging me to permit him an hour, maybe two hours of freedom and nothing else.

I glanced over at the other cells. Wharton was curled up in his bunk, his mouth twisted into an ugly grin. I wouldn't have to worry about him.

'Del…' I muttered to the Cajun who was leaning against the bars of his cell, Mr. Jingles squatted on his shoulder, '…I'm goin' out for a while. Don't make any noise.'

He nodded at me and then nodded at Coffey; I knew that ever since Mr. Jingles had been resurrected from the dead he was eternally grateful to the large black man. But the warmth in his eyes slowly turned cold and froze. Percy Wetmore came pacing in, swinging his hickory stick. I could have cursed. Of all the people – Brutal, Dean, Harry – they had sent Percy Wetmore to do the night shift. I pictured the others downstairs, playing cards and laughing at my expense. But I knew how to work around Percy. With someone who acts like a child, it's best to treat them like a child.

'Percy.' I forced my lips to twitch upwards into a smile.

He looked at me curiously and then looked at John. I think John Coffey both scared and fascinated Percy at the same time. I knew that he didn't like "big men," (he got the impression that they were being bigger than him on purpose.) But there was a certain enchantment twinkling in his pretty eyes, like a little boy staring through the glass window of a candy store. Coffey was equally as transfixed; he looked down at the young officer and returned to his bear-like mien, gently observing. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I got the feeling that Percy Wetmore reminded John Coffey of the Detterick twins. I don't know why I got this impression but perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Percy was very small and soft-skinned like a child. And believe it or not, he was very innocent. Innocent in the sense that he didn't think about things until he actually did them. That sort of innocent that puts you in danger.

Percy was captivated with Coffey's face, his eyes wide and nervous. He tried to mask it by swinging his baton once or twice but I think even he knew this would have no effect against the giant.

'Where're you takin' this lugoon then?'

'We're just goin' for a walk.'

'You aint allowed outside with the prisoners, not at night.'

'I know that. But John needs some air.' I began to feel unhinged, knowing that if Percy squealed it would be curtains for me, 'You won't tell no one, will you?'

I definitely think Coffey had some sort of effect over Percy, because at that moment his mouth quivered as if he considered smiling and he muttered with his head bowed, 'No, I won't tell.'

I nodded at him, 'Will you keep an eye on things?'

Never passing an excuse to be in charge, Percy straightened up, 'Yes sir.'

'And no fightin' with Del, you hear? You leave him an' Mr. Jingles alone now.'

I started leading Coffey outside but turned to look over my shoulder before we left; Percy was pacing up and down outside Delacroix's cell, tapping his hickory stick against his palm and occasionally a light rythmn on the bars while the Cajun hunched up protectively, Mr. Jingles scooting up to sit on his head. They were like two cats sizing each other up; they didn't do anything, just stared intensely, waiting for the slightest hint of movement that seemed at all threatening. I decided they would last a few hours on their own if staring was their only form of brutality.


	2. Chapter 2

I led Coffey down the mile and over to the door; I ran into Dean Stanton along the way and asked him to keep an eye on things incase Percy went off on one. He didn't question where I was taking John but Dean was a person I could trust not to tell. We went out onto the stairwell overlooking the yard and as soon as we were there he gripped the rails with both hands until they trembled.

'Summin' aint right Boss.'

I watched him, as his eyes quivered shut and he began to sweat at the brow, 'What aint right, big boy?'

He didn't answer me; he was busy concentrating, his breathing pattern resembling something of a steam train, a sort of _puff-puff-puff_ sound. I gave him time to collect himself, for these little episodes never lasted very long. He went on with his train impersonation for a little while longer, before he regained his breathing and replied, 'I can sense summin's gonna happen. I can feel it in my bones. Summin' gonna happen and it aint gonna be good.'

I went and stood beside him, looking up at the stars, 'Is it Percy?'

'What?'

'Is it Percy botherin' you?'

He gave it some thought, 'I dun think so, Boss.'

I recollected my thoughts from earlier, when Coffey and Percy were staring at each other. I had been hoping that we wouldn't have anymore trouble with Wetmore, especially after that ordeal with Mr. Jingles. If John sensed any sort of misbehaviour, I wanted to know.

'John…' I felt slightly embarrassed asking such a question but curiosity got the better of me, '…does Percy remind you of anyone?'

He wasn't as slow to respond to this, 'Not really, Boss.'

'Oh…I thought that…'

'Boss?'

'I…I thought he may have reminded you of the twins a bit.'

I worried that my prying would upset him and then he wouldn't speak to me again, but he actually chuckled slightly, 'He does kinda. He's small and soft lookin.' But he aint got no blood in his hair…'

I felt a dash of pain. We looked up towards the sky again, both reminiscing. I wondered what Janice was doing back at home; she was probably waiting up for me, but she knew I wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning, maybe even later. She hadn't been overly pleased in me volunteering to do the night shifts for the next few weeks, but Coffey was requiring my presence more and more often and my curiosity, my _sheer_ curiosity, couldn't keep me away for the world.

'So what's this feelin' you've been havin' then, John?'

He jerked, startling me, and his hands clenched tighter, 'It's that bad man, Boss, that very bad man.'

'Who, Wild Bill?'

He nodded, 'And that other one – Del.'

'Del?'

'I can just feel it Boss. I don't know what's gonna happen, but I can just sense it.'

I decided that the cold night air was getting to him. I myself was beginning to feel the chill.

'C'mon, big boy.' I pulled gently at the chain, 'Let's get you back in.'

I tried to brush it off, but I had come to the conclusion that John Coffey was rarely wrong in his predicaments. I found Percy leaned against the wall, the baton still swinging in his hold. Del hadn't moved from his position, though Mr. Jingles had grown bored and was currently nibbling a peppermint in the corner. The staring contest had been forfeited but by whom I was not aware of. I escorted John back into his cell and turned the key in the lock, trying to ignore the sense of dread that had arisen from deep within me, that was now simmering in my bones.


	3. Chapter 3

A few days passed and nothing changed. Wharton was his same wild self. Delacroix and Percy had their stand offs, but nothing major ever took place. I began to believe that Coffey was just having an off day when he said all those things – after all, he was a very emotional character. But that dread still lingered within me, biting and biting.

Percy continued to do his best to wind up the Cajun the best he could and after a while it began to take its effect. Percy was the child and Delacroix was the dog that he wouldn't stop poking and sooner or later he would react and things wouldn't be pretty. The teasing really rubbed off on him and he became increasingly hostile towards us all, as if he expected us to join in with Percy's immature taunting.

'He'll snap one of these days,' Brutal said to me one day, as we watched the little Frenchman stalking about in his cell, muttering to himself in his own private lingo, 'You'll see. One of these days he'll snap and Percy'll find himself needing medical care.'

'I won't let it get that far,' I replied, 'You'll see. If Percy does one more thing to piss him off, I'll give him a bloody good spank.'

Brutal snorted, fist plummeting into his mouth, 'If only you could get away with that!'

I was only half serious, but all the same I was tempted to give Percy a good whack if he tried anything. Unfortunately, I don't think the governor would be very understanding if he found out I had laid a hand on his precious nephew.

But I tried not to take too much notice of Percy and Del's sniping. I distracted myself with work and occasionally my heart to hearts with John Coffey. This is where I went wrong I suppose. Maybe if I hadn't have been so off guard I could have prevented what happened.

I was working the night shift again and John had once again requested we go outside. Brutal and Harry were downstairs playing cards. Percy and Dean had been left on guard. It had been a week since our discussion and so far he hadn't brought the subject of Del or Wharton up.

We stood outside for about two hours or so, talking about life. I told him about Janice and my daughter and he told me about growing up poor. I noticed that about halfway through our conversation his face suddenly contorted into an expression of pain. He repeated his action of gripping the stairwell until his knuckles strained but this time he refused to respond to my voice. When I felt his hand it was hot, as if his skin was on fire and sweat was pouring down the sides of his head like a dam when it breaks.

'John?' I asked uncertainly.

He suddenly shrieked, the chains around his wrists jangling.

'John? John! What's wrong?'

He was too dense to reply. His eyes were full of tears, his hips jolting, his mouth mumbling inaudible whimpers.

'John!'

He went on for about ten minutes or so, while I backed up against the door, too afraid to call for help. And then he gasped and the movement stopped. I put a hand on his shoulder, my heart pummeling. I had seen this before, but never in such a violent fashion.

'John…what the hell was that?'

He turned and stared at me, eyes red and swollen, 'I told you, Boss. I told you. Summin' bad's happened. Summin' very, very bad.'

I then heard someone screaming, screaming at the top of their lungs. It was a male scream. It came from the cells.

I turned and ran back through the door, forgetting about John Coffey, forgetting about everything else. I raced down the hall, yelling for Brutal and Harry and I met them at the stairs. I cursed myself. How could I have been so stupid leaving Dean and Percy on their own? Through my eyes it was like leaving two children alone with a cellblock full of wild animals. I kept praying to God, praying that nothing had happened to either of them.

My fears were correct. When we eventually reached the mile we found Dean on the floor, gagged with his own belt and hands cuffed behind his back. He looked dead, tear marks leading from his closed eyelids to his chin. For one dire moment I feared Wild Bill was loose and had killed him but he was in his cell, slumped on the floor, completely out of it.

Then I saw it. And John Coffey's words echoed in my brain.

There beside the door of the storage room, Percy lay shaking uncontrollably, plastered in sweat. Delacroix was crouched next to him, gazing concernedly down but the young officer was too dazed to know who he was. When Del recognised me his eyes went all large and glassy, like a kid who had just been caught doing something he shouldn't have done.

'Boss…' his voice was low and scared, 'Boss, this aint…it aint what it looks like Boss, I swear…'

I stared at Percy; he looked almost dead, his hair fell into his eyes and breathing had become difficult for him. Half of his clothes had been torn from him and I saw there were bloody marks all around his shoulders. Dean's eyes flew open as soon as Brutal went over and touched him; they were wide as saucers, his face was wet, flushed, lips unable to do anything but tremble in anticipation. Whatever had gone on, he had seen it and it had chilled him to the core. I suppose I had already pieced together what had happened; something truly horrific which should never happen to anyone, especially someone as young as Percy. Something Eduard Delacroix was familiar with.

'Boss…' Coffey muttered from behind me. I turned and stared at him, mystified as to why he hadn't made a break for sweet freedom when he had the chance. Perhaps he wasn't smart enough to think of that. Or maybe he didn't want to escape.

'Bring him here.' He said.

I pulled myself together. Brutal was busy with Dean, removing his gag, uncuffing him and helping him to his feet. I went and lifted Percy away from Del like how a groom carries a bride; the way he went limp and stiff in my hold terrified me and I fell to my knees in front of Coffey, trembling. The giant crouched, ran a hand through the sweaty strands of Percy's hair and very carefully bent down and pressed their mouths together, like two lovers in a passionate kiss. I was in such a muddle I hardly noticed him sucking out the flies, inhaling them, swallowing them down into his own system and then have a coughing fit. I only noticed when Percy started breathing properly again, his chest rising and falling correctly.

He remained inert in my arms, but he was alive and that was all I cared about. I could hear feet on the stairs; Percy's scream must have been heard all the way to A block. John stood and carefully went back to his cell, shutting the door. I turned and looked over my shoulder to the cowering Cajun, who was backed against the wall, both hands on his head, sobbing and muttering irrelevant trash. My suspicions were confirmed as I felt Percy's crotch and blood came back stained on my fingertips.

'Del, no…' I muttered, as I heard the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs to assist us. Percy was mute, passed out in my arms, 'Del, you didn't…'


	4. Chapter 4

'I can't believe it…' Harry shook his head repeatedly, pacing up and down outside the cubicle door, 'I just don't get why he did it.'

'Aint it obvious?' Brutal shifted from the corner, leaned against the wall in thought, 'I told you, I told you he'd snap. I knew it. One of these days, I knew he was gonna snap. He hated Percy's _guts_. So what better way to get at him? You saw the way he wailed like a little girl when Wild Bill grabbed him. This sort of thing was bound to make him scream, humiliate him.'

'And remember that he's done it before.' I added, but it didn't seem right when I said it.

'Suppose,' but Harry looked uncertain as well, 'I just can't…he seemed like a nice enough fella. I thought he'd learnt from his mistakes.'

'Some people never change,' again, I didn't trust my own words, 'You have to remember that Eduard Delacroix is a rapist and murderer. We were wrong letting Percy anywhere near him.'

Brutal grunted, 'If you ask me, it was the other way round. Percy couldn't wait to get a shot at him.'

I was too preoccupied to reply; my mind was swimming with undiminished thoughts. How could I have been so _wrong_ about Delacroix? How could I have truly believed that he was a different man, that his crime had made him realise the error of what he had done? He had proven me wrong, he had certainly done that and shattered my ability to trust people again. If he _had_ raped Percy – and from what I had seen, it looked very likely - I knew the governor would assure that his death was so horrific he'd be crying for the feel of Old Sparky.

'How's Dean?' Harry questioned Brutal.

'Hasn't said a word,' he replied, 'They're treatin' him for shock.'

I had visited Dean already and he looked like death warmed up; he barely acknowledged my presence, only stared at the wall opposite as if hoping to burn a hole through it.

One of the doctors came out and asked who was in charge. I was in such a daze I forgot to answer, so Brutal did it for me. Percy was unresponsive at the moment and unable to breathe without the assistance of a mask. The doctors suspected he had fallen into a coma but whether or not he would come out of it was unknown. I was praying he would come out of it for two reasons; one because I didn't hate Percy Wetmore _that_ much and didn't wish him dead and secondly because I knew that if he died, his uncle wouldn't be happy until he had Delacroix's head as a garden ornament on his front lawn.

'Sir? Ma'am?'

Governor Finch, a man I hadn't seen face to face up until now, stood and shook my hand, 'Edgecombe. This is my wife, Margaret.'

Margaret Finch looked at me with her red, swollen eyes; she was a very pretty lady, her hair just starting to turn grey, with a small mouth and large dark eyes. She smiled at me but it was painted on, as if she found my presence an intrusion.

'Is he doin' okay?' My question sounded remotely stupid.

'So far.' Finch replied, 'The doctors don't know when he'll come out of it though, poor kid.' His expression changed, 'Where's that fucked up little queer who did this?'

His wife frowned at him for his use of language but this went ignored.

'He's been detained.' I replied.

'Well, you make sure he burns alive for what he did. You know what he did to the poor boy? You should see his shoulder; covered in bite marks! I don't know what skank raised that son of a bitch but she raised him wild! You make sure he goes out screamin' to the Lord for mercy!'

Normally I would have rebuffed this comment, but then I realised he had every right to want this. His nephew had been raped by a prisoner who managed to get free from one of our cells. He had given Percy that job thinking he'd be safe – and so far he'd been poked and prodded in just about every place possible. We were lucky he didn't want _us_ on death row.

'He'll get what he deserves.' I said slowly.

'And where were_ you_ when it happened?' he went on, unfinished, 'is that how it works over there? You let the prisoners roam around free, lookin' for innocent children to rape while you go off and have a game of poker?'

'George!' his wife hissed.

I knew I couldn't answer this. If Hal Moores discovered I had been with John Coffey half the night he would have me on the breadline, friend or no friend.

'We're still lookin' into how he escaped,' I said carefully, 'I was tendin' to another prisoner in a separate block.'

'Percy should never have been left on his own,' Margaret Finch mumbled, 'He's only a boy, he doesn't know how to watch himself.'

I was beginning to get the picture here of why Percy Wetmore was such a goddamn brat; he was still treated as if he was six years old by his elders, pampered and spoilt and seen as everyone's little sweetheart who couldn't do any wrong. His aunt probably viewed him in a completely different light to the rest of us. I wanted to burst her bubble; tell her just how many times her little baby had tormented the block's prisoners, how many times he'd given Delacroix grief, made him cry. How he had stepped on his mouse just for the sake of it, when he knew that the man only had months left to live and that Mr. Jingles was his only friend in the world.

I couldn't.

'I wish you all the best,' I stated truthfully, 'Percy will recover, don't you worry.'

She looked as if she didn't believe me, but she thanked me all the same, her little smile returning prettier than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

The next step was to question Del.

He had been detained in solitary confinement, pocket size compared to his cell in E block. When I entered he was sitting in a chair in the centre of the room and before I could question him as to what he was doing, I realised that he had no choice but to sit there.

'Are those really necessary?' I snapped to the guards at the door.

Delacroix's hands had been shackled behind him so his arms strained painfully against the chains. He looked set to get up and run, chair and all, when I came into the room, but he wouldn't have got far if he did. Not with those cuffs.

'The governor's takin' precautions, sir.' One of the guards replied.

_Figures_, I thought.

The door was shut and we were alone. I really felt for old Del, but I needed to stop letting my personal feelings get in the way of my judgement. For now I had to treat him like a suspect and nothing else.

'S'alright Del.' I raised a hand to calm him, 'I just wanna talk. Just wanna talk.'

He shifted in his seat, sweating and nervous; I crouched in front of him, studying him carefully to check if any of the things that came out of his mouth were lies.

'Del…I want you to answer summin' for me.'

'Anythin' Boss…'

'…Del, did you rape Percy Wetmore?'

He stared at me with horror and somewhat dismay, 'No Boss.'

'Did you do it because of what he did to Mr. Jingles?'

'No Boss.'

It was becoming increasingly difficult to believe him but his eyes didn't seem to be telling tall tales, 'Look, Del…I wanna believe you. But even _you_ can see how I'm findin' it difficult. You were out of your cell, with Percy-'

'I's never touched him Boss!' he sounded truly hurt now, 'I know I've done bad in the past but I've learned Boss, I've learned!'

'Del, you know that no one's gonna buy that. Besides, you hated Percy's guts-'

'But I'd never do that again, Boss. He was a regular bad'un but I still would've never done that, honest to God!'

I cut to the chase, 'Del, that night in the block, how'd you get out of your cell?'

He blinked at me, as if I'd just asked the dumbest question known to mankind, 'I's used a pin, Boss.'

'A pin?'

'One of them bobby pins, there-' he nodded to his pocket and I fished one out, 'Mr. Jingles likes to chew 'em so I got some off old Toot Toot. He saves 'em for the lady prisoners, y'know.'

I almost snorted at that but I realised that this explanation was only lengthening Delacroix's guilt further, 'Okay. So you opened it with a pin. Why did you open it?'

He looked cold then, as if a breeze had suddenly swept through, 'I saw summin' terrible Boss. Summin' truly horrible.'

'Which was?'

He opened his mouth to reply but at that moment Warden Moores burst through, interrupting us.

'Paul, a word?'

I rose to leave, but then Delacroix called out desperately, 'How is he, Boss?'

I realised he was referring to Percy.

'Alive,' I replied, waiting for a sense of anger to flash across his eyes. But there was no anger, only a small hint of relief, though I may have been mistaken.

'That's good…' he nodded to himself, eyes unfocused, 'That's very good.'

I didn't have time to determine whether his concern was genuine enough; Hal Moores ushered me out of the room and as soon as we were out in the hall his voice fell into a whisper.

'Paul, what in the sam hill are you doin'?'

'Questionin' the suspect.' I replied dolefully.

He laughed at that, 'Suspect. C'mon Paul, he's hardly a suspect. You've already given your statement – you saw him out of his cell, with Wetmore. It's all there in black and white.'

'I know, I know. But…'

'But what? What else is there to discuss?'

'Hal…what happens now?'

He reached up and scratched the back of his head, 'The governor wants the execution date brought forward.'

'Shit…'

'That's not the half of it. He wants to make sure we have him screamin' for death before he even faces Old Sparky.'

'Torture, you mean?'

'His wife disagreed – she's a woman of Christian morals. But he seems to think that death is too easy a way out.'

'Hal, we can't put Delacroix through that.'

'I don't know. He's a rapist and murderer. Perhaps he deserves it.'

'No one deserves that, sir. And anyway, we don't know if…' I trailed off, realising I'd given my own game away. Hal peered at me, his suspicion arising. He could read me like a book.

'You don't think he did it, do you?'

I closed my eyes, 'Hal-'

'Paul, for God's sake, there's no need to complicate things further-'

'I can't help it, Hal. I just don't think he did it. I know he's done it before but…I don't know, he seemed a changed man.'

'Some people never change,' he didn't even realise he was mimicking my own words from earlier on, 'Paul, you can't let a gut feelin'-'

'It's_ more_ than a gut feelin', sir. I just don't think he did it. And I'm gonna prove it.'

'How the hell are you gonna do that?'

This was a good question. How _was_ I going to do that? I was all for taking a risk but this was utter suicide.

'Hal…do you think you'll be able to get him a trial?'

He stared at me as if I'd gone mad, 'A trial? Paul, are you serious?'

'It'll give me more time to sort the facts out. Can you do it, Hal?'

'Well, of course I can try, but-'

'I need this. I know Eduard Delacroix is guilty of a lot of things but I don't think he's guilty of this.'

He considered this but at the same time his head shook determinedly, 'This is nuts. I mean, even if I can get him a trial what will you have to back yourself up? Only Percy and Dean saw what happened; Dean is too spooked to talk and Percy's almost snuffed it-' he cut himself off, because his voice had risen to a dangerous level. His eyes swamped with guilt, 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk like that. He's only a kid after all.'

'Yeah, I know.' I licked my lips nervously, 'But can you do it, Hal? Please? Just give me some time.'

His head continued to shake but I was eating away at him, I could tell.

'I tell you, Paul…if this blows up in your face, there's nothin' I can do-'

'I know that, Hal.'

He turned, paced a bit and then returned to his spot, 'I can ask the board about gettin' Delacroix a trial-'

'Thank you, Hal-'

'-but I'll have to have summin' to back myself up. Some evidence that he wasn't responsible, that someone else was on the block that night who was capable of rape.'


	6. Chapter 6

I decided to question the other prison guards first.

I had three days to gather evidence and then distribute it to the board. With the help of Curtis Anderson that is.

'We didn't hear nothin' in particular,' Brutal said in all honesty, 'Mind you, we couldn't hear much from downstairs.'

'What about Del?' I asked, 'Did he seem a little off to you?'

'Now that you mention it…' Harry rubbed the back of his ear, 'He did seem a bit off…I mean, a little quiet. Mind you, he's usually like that when Percy's around.'

'How was he actin'?'

'He just kept starin' outta his bars as if there was summin' about to eat him,' Harry replied, 'Like…like he was waitin' for summin' to happen.'

'Well that doesn't help much,' said Anderson later, 'Makes Delacroix sound all the more guilty.'

I knew he was right but this didn't deter me. Dean had been discharged from the hospital but was taking time off work until he got over the stress. He had been spooked out of his mind, to the point where speech was impossible. I had visited him the day before but he had no recollection of what happened that night; Bill Dodge told me this was possible; sometimes when someone goes through traumatic stress, it wipes their mind clean and they forget what made them stressed in the first place. I think he was aware that rape had taken place because whenever you said the word his eyes would go as large and dark as Mr. Jingles' when he was startled. But he wouldn't speak about it. He would only start muttering nonsense or put his hands over his ears to block out the sound. He was our only witness – Wild Bill didn't count because he wasn't even conscience when the rape occurred, which made me wonder if Brutal had doped him again. Mind you, even if he _had_ been conscience, he still probably wouldn't have been of much help.

There was only one thing left to do. Reenact what happened the night of Percy's rape.

'You all know what you have to do,' I addressed the line of men – which included Brutal Howell, Harry Terwilliger, Bill Dodge and Jack Van Hay – and nodded at each of them, 'You've all been assigned roles. Take your positions.'

One of the other guards had taken Wharton for a walkabout in the yard to keep him out of the way and give Bill Dodge access to his cell; as soon as he was in there he flopped down on the floor, making comical fitting noises which got the others sniggering. Van Hay pretended to be Dean, standing to the left of the mile. Harry was Delacroix, standing behind the bars with a fake Mr. Jingles taped to his shoulder. Brutal had managed to wangle playing Percy and immediately began strutting about, miming swinging a hickory stick, getting Percy's arrogant walking pattern spot on. Had the situation not been so dire, I would have laughed because for a moment he really did look like Percy. But the only image I had of Percy now was him lying in a hospital bed on the brink of death.

'If you don't mind Brutal,' I said as the others fell about laughing like coyotes, 'Can we please start behavin' like adults? Del's rottin' away in a cell somewhere and we aint gonna be able to do anythin' to help him by sittin' here goofin' around like children.'

Brutal still snorted but I think he understood, because he stopped after a while and muttered, 'Sorry.'

I stood back and observed, Curtis Anderson behind me with his clipboard.

'Alright. So, we know that Dean was to the left of the mile-' I motioned to Van Hay, '-and Percy was on the right.' I motioned to Brutal, 'Now, Anderson's been over the crime scene and so far there's nothin' to lead on. All we know is that Dean's gun was outside Wharton's cell, Percy's gun had been flung out of reach and there's evidence of blood over here-' I pointed to a perfect circle of red, dried up on the floor outside the cell that Arlen Bitterbuck once slept in, '-and there.' I pointed to the faint smears of blood not too far away from the spot where the rape took place.

The others nodded.

'Alright, this is the prosecution's theory.' Said Curtis Anderson, observing the diagram on his clipboard, 'Percy was standin' to the right of the mile; Delacroix leans out of his cell and grabs him. He takes his gun, his keys and gets out of the cell. He handcuffs Dean and leaves him over here. Then he drags Percy over here, attempts to remove his clothes; Percy gets away – hence the smears of blood on the floor - but Delacroix catches him by the storage room door and rapes him. And that's when you lot come in.'

Curtis Anderson paced around the mile, demonstrating to us. When he was done, I said to the others, 'Now you do it.'

They acted out every detail from Anderson's description; Brutal wandered outside the bars, hovering near Delacroix's cell and Harry made a grab for him, successfully hooking an arm around his neck. Van Hay stood by for a long while until Harry had finally hooked out Brutal's keys, gun and handcuffs and let himself out of the cell. Harry then went over, pretended to gag Van Hay and force him onto the floor. I stopped them before they could take it any further.

'No, no, no, this makes no sense! There's no way Del could've done all that without Dean blowin' his head off. Dean's a smart kid; he would have acted upon instinct. I know Percy would have probably gone stiff as a rabbit but not Dean.'

'That's what I thought, but you know what the governor's like. He'll make it out like he's some dumb little kid who should never have been given a job here in the first place.' Said Anderson.

'I know, I know. But there's got to be another explanation,' I looked around, analyzing my surroundings. It was at times like this when I needed John Coffey the most; but something had come over him ever since the night of the rape. He went into this weird, trance like state and spent all of his time inert in his cot, refusing to answer to anybody. We would have to figure this out ourselves.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. I tried to picture Delacroix grabbing Percy, removing each item, then disposing of Dean in time to rape the boy. But it made no sense. For one thing, Delacroix had nothing against Dean so it seemed unlikely that he would go to such lengths to keep him quiet. Another thing was Del's capability of rape; he was almost as small as Percy and rather delicate; a young girl, maybe, but Percy was a grown man with the ability to swing a punch. One swift kick would have sent the Cajun flying.

It couldn't have been Del. Someone else had to have been on the mile after I left. I knew it couldn't have been one of my men; they all had a strong dislike towards Percy but not to that length. Bill Dodge and Harry saw him as a naughty child and that innocence made it difficult to hate him entirely. I knew that Brutal often wanted to colour his backside but he had been a friend of mine for years; there was no way he was capable of such things, even towards Percy.

I suddenly felt miserable. I wondered why I was bothering with all this when it was clear that we were getting nowhere. All signs pointed to Del and no one else.

I thought of Dean's terrified face and felt my gut twist. I remembered his uncontrollable twitching as I spoke to him, his fidgeting, the way his hands constantly reached upwards to touch the faint bruises on his neck…

Bruises on his neck. **Bruises**on his **neck**.

An idea hit me like a ton of bricks.

'What if it wasn't Percy who was grabbed?'

They all stared at me, eyebrows raised.

'What if…?' I carefully stroked my chin, '…Jack, can you go back to the spot where Dean started again?' I turned to Bill Dodge in the cell, 'And you Bill, go up to the bars a moment.'

They took their positions; Bill up at the bars with Van Hay hovering outside. I told him to take a few steps back, within reaching distance of the cell. As I had suspected, Bill's arm whipped out and grabbed him from around the neck quite easily. I think all our minds flashed back to the first day of the mile when Wharton had almost choked Dean to death; I know Brutal did, because he mirrored Percy's reaction exactly; his limbs went stiff and nothing in the world could have moved him. It all made much more sense.

Anderson was standing by, taking notes, 'What do you think Paul?'

I set off as soon as he asked me this, 'Here's what I think. Dean – as intelligent as the boy is – accidentally wandered too near Wharton's cell. Wharton is up at the bars, seizes the opportunity and grabs him round the neck. Percy is naturally startled and freezes up, givin' Wharton time to get Dean's keys, cuffs and gun. Wharton lets himself out, gets Dean gagged and on the floor and then all eyes are on Percy.'

'What about the blood trails?' asked Brutal.

I examined the floor, 'He must have backed Percy up around here,' I went over to Arlen Bitterbuck's old cell where the spot of blood was, 'One of them was injured…Percy most likely…he managed to get away somehow…' I turned towards the door of the storage room, '…he must have crawled but Wharton caught up on him and that's when…that's when it happened.'

They were all staring at me, as if I had been snatched into thin air and replaced with a life-size Sherlock Holmes.

Harry was the first to break the silence, 'That still doesn't explain how we found Del loose and Wharton stone cold in his cell.'

'And Percy's hickory stick was found near the storage room,' said Van Hay, 'How'd it get there?'

'Maybe Percy used it in defence?' suggested Bill.

'You would've thought it would show on Del's face though.'

I remembered Del's words, 'He said he used a bobby pin to get out…but you're right, that doesn't explain how Wharton got back in his cell. Or how the hickory stick got there.'

It seemed like we were back to square one.

Then a small voice murmured from behind us, 'Boss?'

I turned, 'John?'

I hadn't heard him get up but he was there, staring out from between the bars, peering at us curiously.

'John!' I dashed up to him, almost forgetting what I was there for, 'John, what happened to you? You just clocked out!'

'I'm sorry Boss,' Coffey replied, 'but I heard what yous were sayin' about that bad man.'

'You mean Wild Bill?'

'That's right, sur. Remember, I told you I felt summin' bad was gonna happen and it did?'

I stared at him anxiously, 'It was him wasn't it Coffey? You can show me, can't you?'

'I think so, Boss.'

I reached out and clasped his hand, ignoring the stares I received from the other end of the mile as the others craned their heads over to see what the hell I was doing. My focus was on John Coffey entirely; my eyes drilled into the large black ones before me, waiting. This was him sealing the fate of Eduard Delacroix.

And then he showed me.


End file.
